Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
She made her way over to Blayze, who stuck his chest out just a little bit more. I covered my mouth and chuckled.
“My name is Blayze Brock Shaw, but you can call me Blayze. All my friends do.”
Kaylee lifted a brow and looked at Ty. “Yours?” she asked.
“What? No! Heck no. My younger brother’s kid.”
Kaylee looked down at Blayze and winked. “Bummer, I really like kids.”
“He’s with me nearly all the time, since Brock is traveling so much,” Ty stated quickly.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. It was cute how Ty seemed to have a little crush on Kaylee.
Blayze turned to me. “Miss Lincoln, my papa said you bought a horse from him the other day.”
“Yep, your papa is right. Would you like to see him? I could use a break.”
Blayze attempted to stay calm, but his five-year-old self did a few little jumps. “Yes! Uncle Ty, can I go see Miss Lincoln’s horse?”
Ty’s eyes met mine. “We don’t want to interrupt you from working. I know you’re trying to get settled in.”
“Nonsense. Besides, I think Kaylee could use some help with that . . . hammer.”
When Kaylee’s eyes snapped over to me with nothing but a death stare, I simply smiled.
“Come on, Blayze. Let’s go see that horse.”
“What? Now? You’re leaving us alone?” Kaylee cried after us.
Tossing a look over my shoulder, I called back, “I’m pretty sure Ty doesn’t bite—at least not hard, anyway.”
Ty rumbled out a hearty laugh as my best friend’s mouth dropped in shock. The girl was all talk, apparently.
Blayze reached up and took my hand as I walked him down to the barn.
“This barn used to be my daddy’s.”
“Really?” I asked, looking at the barn in front of us. “Did you come here a lot with your daddy?”
He shook his head. “We moved out when I was really little.”
I nodded. I had to admit I was curious about this mysterious Brock Shaw. What would make a man do such a dangerous thing for a living?
I also had no idea where Blayze’s mother was, or even if she was still in the picture.
“Do you like it here?” he asked.
“Yes, very much.”
“Do you like riding horses?”
“I do, very much so.”
“Me too! My daddy taught me. He also taught me how to fish, and I’s can shoot a gun.”
Gasping, I asked, “A gun? Aren’t you a little young to shoot a gun, Blayze?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, crawling up the hay bale that was sitting outside the stall. He smiled the moment he saw Thunder. “He sure is a pwetty horse, Miss Lincoln. Why’s he in the barn and not in the pasture?”
“I’ll turn him out here in a bit.”
“Daddy says I’s born to be on a horse. He’s gonna teach me how to rope when he comes back home.”
I grinned as I ran my hand down Thunder’s neck before giving him a good pat. Blayze mimicked my action and told Thunder what a good boy he was. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched him interact with the animal. It was clear he loved horses. And I loved having that in common with my new little neighbor.
Then, out of the blue, he brought up his mother. “I didn’t know my mommy. Do you know your mommy?”
My heart broke for the little guy.
I nodded. “Yes. My mommy was the one who taught me how to ride a horse.”
Blayze smiled. I couldn’t help but wonder how old he’d been when she’d . . . left. “I bet you miss your mommy,” I said, trying to picture what my life would have been like without my mother. I couldn’t even imagine.
“Blayze!”
I let out a scream that spooked Thunder, making him jerk back. Blayze didn’t seem fazed at all by Thunder reacting to my scream. I, on the other hand, jumped and tripped over God knows what. I landed right on my ass.
Before I could even comprehend what had happened, a hand reached down for me to take.
“My goodness, you scared me,” I said as the hand pulled me up like I weighed no more than a feather.
I stumbled, and he righted me. The moment I looked up into his sky-blue eyes, my stomach tumbled.
Then, my heart seized in my chest when I focused on the rest of the man.
He was tall, but not too tall. I was five three, so he had to be five ten, maybe? Built, but not so much that you imagined he lived in a gym half his life. Oh no . . . those muscles were earned with hard manual labor that he most likely did growing up on this ranch. His brown hair gave off that sexy look of a man who likes to run his hands through it.
But his eyes. I was drawn back up to them. They looked . . . confused, maybe even a little bit sad. The way he stared at me made me take a step back. Not because I was afraid of him; it was the intensity of his gaze that threw me off.